


Imprint

by Fragged



Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Imprinting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-09 14:03:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3252500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fragged/pseuds/Fragged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She gives him a slight shrug and an apologetic smile. “I think he might have imprinted on you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Rush!” 

There is shouting. That's the first thing he notices. 

“ _Rush!_ Come on!” 

Something is slapping his face. It's irritating. Makes it impossible to go back to sleep. 

“Rush! Wake _up_ , we have to move!” 

He opens his eyes, and the first thing he sees is a face. A nice face. The nicest face he can ever remember seeing. There's something familiar about it. 

“Jesus, finally,” the face says. “You okay, Rush?” 

The face looks worried. He wants to make it stop frowning. He smiles at the face. It doesn't work. For some reason the face looks even more worried. 

“Shit, I think you hit your head,” the face says. “Can you talk, Rush?” 

He must be Rush. “Yes,” he says, to his own surprise. “Rush can talk.” 

The face looks... relieved? Yes, relieved. Rush smiles again. 

“Listen, you got attacked by that creature, I think you might have a concussion,” the face says. Rush really likes the face. 

“Okay,” Rush says placidly. 

“We need to get back to the gate. Destiny is going to jump in less than ten minutes and I don't want to stay here a minute longer than I have to.” The face looks around anxiously, and Rush feels his own anxiety spike at the sight of it. 

“We go together,” Rush says. Rush doesn't want the face to leave him. 

The face changes so quickly Rush doesn't know what it means. But when it speaks again it's in a reassuring tone. “Yeah, of course we'll go together. Can you walk?” 

Rush tries to move his limbs. They don't do much more than twitch. Rush can't walk. 

“Rush can't walk,” Rush says, and fear makes his mouth dry and his heart beat faster. “We go together!” 

“Calm down, Rush, I'm not gonna leave you here,” the face says. Rush smiles at the face, even though he feels like crying. 

“Jesus, that thing really did a number on you,” the face says. 

“Okay,” Rush says, because he doesn't know what else to say. 

“I'm going to pick you up, alright? I'll carry you. Don't freak out on me,” the face says sternly. 

“Okay,” Rush says again. The face is going to carry Rush. Rush will not freak out.

-

“A little help here!” Young shouts, when he enters the gate room in a sprint. Seconds later the stargate shuts off behind him. 

“What happened?” TJ asks immediately as she takes half of Rush's weight from him. 

“He got attacked by that creature, the one that was hunting us. I think he has a concussion or something. He's definitely not okay.” 

Rush stares at him with big, questioning eyes while TJ looks him over quickly. 

“I want him in the infirmary right away,” she says seriously. “Can he walk?” 

“I doubt it. He was knocked out pretty good. He got some motor skills back in the past ten minutes, but I don't think he can stand on his own yet.” He turns to Greer. “Help TJ get him to the infirmary.” 

“Yes, sir,” Greer says easily.

The moment Young tries to untangle Rush's arm from his neck, though, the man starts clawing at him. 

“No! We go together!” Rush sounds absolutely terrified, and it shocks Young into acquiescence. TJ frowns at them both, worry clear in her eyes. 

“I told you he was not okay,” Young says to her. Rush is still looking at him, his eyes are slightly wet and his fingers dig painfully into the muscles in his shoulder. “Calm down, Rush,” he says, a little more quietly. “I'll take you to the infirmary. Relax.” 

“Okay.” Rush's fingers loosen incrementally, and Rush gives him that same open smile he'd given Young on the planet. “Okay.” 

-

After they take him to the infirmary, she sits Rush down on one of the beds. Physically, he seems okay. Mentally, not so much. His eyes haven't left Young's face since she's seen them come through the gate, and even now he practically ignores her examinations in favor of tracking Young across the infirmary. Whenever Young gets too close to the door his breath becomes a bit labored and his heartbeat speeds up. 

“Sir,” TJ says exasperatedly. Young doesn't seem to realize how much his pacing around is affecting Rush. “Can you please just sit down over here?” she motions at the chair at the foot of the bed.

Young gives her an odd look, but simply nods and takes place in the chair. Rush calms down immediately under her hands. 

“Doctor Rush?” she asks. He nods, but he doesn't look her in the eye. He's still staring at Young. She follows his gaze to Young's eyes. “Why does he keep looking at you?” 

“I have no idea.” Young gives her an uncomfortable little shrug. “He keeps _smiling_ at me, too.” 

TJ frowns, examining Rush's head for any signs of blunt force trauma. There's nothing. No blood, no bruising, just a small smudge of dirt on his forehead. If that was the impact site there's no way it accounts for the strange behavior Rush is exhibiting. 

She removes Rush's shirt, absently taking note of the way Young averts his gaze, and lets her fingers travel over his shoulders, pushing his hair out of the way so she can examine the skin for injuries. “You,” she says mildly to Rush, “Need a haircut.”

She checks his right arm, but other than a small bruise it's fine. She takes his left arm, and then she sees it. There's an oddly shaped bite on the inside of his underarm, six little puncture wounds in a neat circle. “It bit him.” 

Young inches closer to examine the bite mark. 

“Did you see the creature bite him?” she asks. 

Young shakes his head. “It was crouched over him when I got there, but it didn't appear to be hurting him. When I aimed my gun at it, it fled. Rush was passed out.” 

“Doctor Rush?” He nods again, but still refuses to look at anything but Young. She turns to the Colonel. “Maybe you should ask him.” 

Young gives her an unreadable look before turning back to Rush. “Rush, did the creature bite you?” 

Rush flicks his eyes down to the wound on his arm momentarily, before looking back up to Young's face. “Yes. It hurt. Like fire.” 

TJ has to force back the urge to ruffle Rush's hair. He's almost twice her age. But there's something so lost about him all her instincts scream at her to comfort him, to take care of him. She puts her hand on his shoulder reassuringly as she takes his arm in the other. “I'm going to clean the wound, Doctor Rush. It might hurt a little.” 

He nods. “Rush can handle pain.” 

She sterilizes the bite, and is a bit surprised Rush doesn't even flinch. The puncture wounds are round and less than a quarter inch in diameter each. Since no veins or arteries have been nicked she decides against stitches. Once she's put the bandage in place, she continues her examination of the rest of his body. There's nothing else, other than a scrape on his knee and a scratch on his lower back that's so shallow the skin hasn't even broken.

TJ looks over at Young again. “I can't find anything that could explain why he's behaving this way.” 

“Could it be psychological?” Young asks. 

She furrows her brow. “Somehow I doubt that.” She grabs a syringe and ties a thick rubber band around Rush's upper right arm. “I'm going to take some blood, Doctor Rush. Is that okay?” 

Rush looks at Young questioningly, and she watches Young nod at him in reassurance. “You'll be fine, Rush.” 

“Okay,” Rush says. 

-

“His blood levels of oxytocin and vasopressin are abnormally high,” she says. 

“What does that mean?” Young asks. 

“I'm not a neurologist, but oxytocin is also known as the bonding hormone.” 

Young gives her a confused look. “Bonding hormone?” 

She clears her throat. “Yes. As in, when a woman delivers a baby, when they breastfeed, the high levels of oxytocin in the brain help create that strong connection between mother and child.” 

“So what are you saying, TJ?” 

She's not entirely sure. Not yet. But all the bits of information are starting to coalesce into a pattern, and she can almost make out the bigger picture. “Maybe the creature wasn't trying to eat Rush,” she says. “Maybe it was trying to _adopt_ him.” 

“You think that bite wasn't to taste him, but to—what? Poison him?”

She nods. “Well, sort of. _Prime_ him, maybe. Those round puncture wounds...those teeth weren't meant for tearing flesh.” 

Young nods slowly and gives her a look. “I know you have an idea about what's happening here, so spill it.” 

She thinks maybe the creature bit Rush so it could take him back to its nest, but before it could finish the job Young showed up and scared it off. Young's face was probably the first thing Rush saw when he woke up. 

She gives him a slight shrug and an apologetic smile. “I think he might have imprinted on you.” 

-

“I really don't think it's a good idea, sir,” TJ says. She's annoyed, he can tell by that little vertical wrinkle between her eyebrows. 

“Look, I got some sort of alien land-jellyfish spit slime all over me while I was there. I need a shower. Rush is sleeping, I won't be more than twenty minutes.” 

“He'll panic if he wakes up and you're gone.” 

“He still has that poison running through his veins, I think he'll be sleeping for a while.” 

“You can't know that. We don't know what was in that venom; just those hormones wouldn't account for the infantilization or the memory loss. We have _no idea_ what we're dealing with here!” she argues. 

“I'm going to take a shower, _Lieutenant_ ,” he snaps. Immediately, he feels like an asshole. He sighs and drags his hand through his hair. “Just...radio me if he wakes up, alright?”

He doesn't look back at Rush or TJ as he walks out of the infirmary. He needs to get away from this, even if only for a few minutes. Rush is not...he is not Rush's keeper. Except that now it seems he gets no choice in the matter at all, because the fucker imprinted on him, whatever that's supposed to mean. 

So now he's, what? Forced to stay by Rush's side for as long as it takes? Having to argue over taking a goddamn shower when he's covered from head to toe in dried up alien goo? And it's not like Rush is going to be thanking him for it, either. No, he'll probably get angry and bitter and just all around fucking terrible, and then he'll have to deal with _that_. Goddammit. 

Young takes a few deep breaths as the mist sprays over him. He doesn't have time to freak out over this. TJ is right, they have no idea what'll happen if Rush wakes up now. 

His shower is quick, and it's good to finally wash the ichor off his skin. It was starting to get itchy. When he's done, he feels calmer. 

He didn't have the foresight to bring a clean set of clothes, so he shrugs his black shirt and his uniform pants back on. At least they're moderately clean. He eyes his jacket with faint disgust. It's covered in dried slime. 

Suddenly his radio crackles to life. _“Colonel, you need to come to the infirmary right now!”_

“On my way, TJ,” he says into his radio, and then he's running, heart in his throat. He's in the infirmary within minutes. 

TJ looks shaken up, holding a bloody rag, and Rush lies motionless in his bed. There's blood on the blanket, near his face. 

“What happened?” he demands. 

She folds the rag tightly and shakes her head. “I...He woke up. He _panicked_ , he bit the inside of his cheek—I was afraid he was going to hurt himself so I sedated him. Shit, I shouldn't have done that.” 

Young sighs and scrubs a hand through his hair. “It was my fault, TJ. You warned me not to go.” 

She shakes her head again. “The sedation, he overreacted to it, his brainwaves are too slow.”

“Is he in a coma?” He looks over at Rush, worry gnawing low in his belly. 

“No, not yet... He might slide into one, though, and I have no way to help him,” TJ says, pressing her hand against her forehead. “God, I should have known. He reacted badly to it when we had to operate on his heart, too.” 

“Really Tamara, this is on me. I should have listened to you,” Young says. 

He feels guilty as hell, but it's not like feeling sorry for himself is going to make the situation any better. “What can we do, now?”

She turns around and shakes her head again. When she turns back to him, she looks calm. Ever the professional. “We can't do anything but wait. It was a small dose, he should wake up soon.” 

Young nods at her steadily. “Alright.” 

He sits down at Rush's bedside and waits.

-

“Hey,” Young says softly when Rush finally opens his eyes again. It's been nearly an hour, although his brainwaves normalized into regular sleep after the first fifteen minutes. 

“Sir?” Rush asks, wrapping both hands around Young's and pulling it to his chest like a child with a teddy bear. 

Everything about the picture is so _wrong_ that Young doesn't even know how to react. 

“Sir?” Rush asks again. And he doesn't say it the way Rush would say it – if he ever would. It's not sarcastic, or caustic, or insolent. He says it like it's a name, and— _oh_. 

“No, Rush,” Young says, with a slight smile. “My name is not 'sir'.” 

Rush cocks his head with an answering smile on his lips. He's like a child. A sweet, innocent little child, and Young can't think of him as 'Rush', the ornery, duplicitous bastard he's come to know for the past years. 

“Tell you what, from now on I'll call you Nick. And you can call me Everett.” 

“Everett.” Rush— _Nick_ , smiles. 

“Yeah. Now, you should sleep some more, okay? When you wake up you'll feel better.” 

“Okay. Everett is here.” He yawns and closes his eyes. “Okay.” 

Young can't help but feel something...affection? Tenderness? for the man in front of him. It's not Rush. This is someone open and trusting and scared, and he owes it to him, to Nick, to take care of him. 

Nick falls asleep with Young's hand clasped against his chest. 

-

The next morning, Young wakes up with a horrible crick in his neck. He's still in the chair, Rush is still clutching his hand to his chest. There's a blanket draped over his shoulders, and he knows he has TJ to thank for that. 

“Everett,” Rush— _Nick_ says quietly. 

He looks over and sees the small smile on his face, and it all feels oddly intimate and loving. 

“Hey, Nick. Morning.” 

“Good morning.” 

“How are you feeling? Any better?” 

“Yeah. Nick can probably walk now.” 

Young smiles. “You don't say your name when you talk about yourself. Just say 'I'.” 

Nick ponders that for a second. Then he nods decisively and says, “I can probably walk now.” 

“And your cheek? Still sore?” 

Nick prods the inside of his cheek with his tongue and makes a displeased face. “Yes. Still raw. It tastes like blood. I don't like it.” 

Young nods. “I'm sorry about that.”

Nick gives him a questioning look. 

“I'm sorry about leaving. I shouldn't have done that. Not to you, not to TJ.” 

Nick takes the hand he's kept cradled against his chest for the entire night, and brings it up to his mouth. Young watches in perplexed confoundment as he presses his lips against them in a dry kiss. “It's okay. Everett. Don't be worried.” 

Young pulls his hand back. It's weird. It's all too weird, because Rush doesn't talk like this. He doesn't call him Everett. And he sure as fuck doesn't go around kissing his hand. 

Rush— _Nick!_ cocks his head at Young. There's something close to hurt in his eyes. “Everett?” 

Young forces himself to smile at him. “No kissing, okay, Nick?”

Nick nods slowly. “Okay.” His eyes are wide and thoughtful, probably trying to understand what he did wrong, what's so bad about kissing. Young feels guilty, even though he knows he's right. Rush is probably going to bitch about the hand holding. He's definitely going to lose his shit if Young lets Nick kiss him like that. 

“Your speech is getting better, it sounds like,” he says, changing the subject abruptly. 

“I agree,” Nick says matter-of-factly, and for a second it's like he's talking to Rush again. Then Nick smiles at him, and the illusion is shattered. 

“C'mon, let's go see if TJ is awake yet,” Young says. 

-

“He seems to be getting better,” Young says while TJ sits Nick down on the infirmary bed and takes his blood again. 

Nick still looks over at him several times a minute, but it's no longer the continual staring from before. He seems very interested in what TJ is doing, now, unlike yesterday afternoon, when he barely reacted to her questions. She murmurs little things to him, and he reacts with nods and smiles and eye contact. A lot better than yesterday, if still not at all Rush-like. 

TJ nods as she looks over the almost instant results from his blood test – one of the perks of living on a million-year old Ancient spaceship. 

“I think the creature would probably have to bite him regularly, to keep the chemical cocktail in his blood at the levels it needs. He should change back to his old self in no time,” she says. 

Well, that's a relief. 

“Any kind of timeline on that?” he asks hopefully. 

She looks over at Nick with a small smile, and then back at him. “Could be three days, could be a week. But as the hormone levels in his body go back to normal, he'll become more and more like himself.”

“I think Rush would prefer it if we kept this to ourselves for now. No need to expose him to the whole crew while he's in this state,” Young says. 

Rush will be back soon, and there's no need to make this any more awkward and difficult on either of them by parading Nick around in the mess hall so people can squawk about how adorable he is. Hopefully Rush will see it for the gesture of goodwill it is. 

“I was actually going to suggest the same thing,” TJ smiles. “He'll appreciate that when he's himself again, sir.” 

Young huffs. “We'll see.” He absentmindedly allows Nick to pull at his sleeve until Young's hand is firmly in his grip. 

TJ looks at their intertwined fingers and frowns. “You can't leave him alone, the way he is now.”

“Maybe you could report that Rush and I both got hurt on the planet yesterday, so I can take sick leave and stay with him?” 

“Of course,” she nods. “I could keep both of you here in the infirmary. Or you could stay in your quarters and I could come by to do his medicals.”

It's not a difficult decision to make. At least in his quarters he might actually get some paperwork done. Besides, he doesn't want TJ to spend another night in the infirmary; she's their only doctor, she needs her rest. 

“That sounds good. Thank you, TJ.” 

“Okay, Doctor Rush,” she says, turning to Nick. “Up you go. You are declared healthy enough to go to the Colonel's quarters.” 

Nick gets up from the bed and looks over at Young. He's smiling again. 

“It's still early,” TJ says. “If you go now you probably won't run into anyone in the corridors.”


	2. Chapter 2

TJ was right, they get from the infirmary to Young's quarters without being seen by anyone. It's one small bit of good fortune in this whole clusterfuck, at least. 

But now that they're here, he has no idea what they're supposed to be doing for the next few days. He was planning on working, sure, but he can't just tell Nick to sit still and do nothing while he does his backlogged paperwork. He looks around the room. 

“Can you read?” he asks, grabbing the book on his nightstand and handing it to Nick. 

Nick takes it and looks at the cover. “Yes. 'Moon People'. I can read this?” 

“Yeah, knock yourself out,” Young says with a small smile. There's a good chance Rush will be really annoyed about him letting Nick read something so shitty, and the thought amuses him greatly. 

They spend a few hours in relative peace. Young works at his desk until Nick slinks off the couch and sits on the ground next to him, his back against the desk and his free hand curled loosely around Young's ankle. 

He looks down at Nick and sighs. “That can't be comfortable.” 

Nick looks up from his book and smiles at him. “It's nice. It's close to Everett. I like that.” 

He still doesn't know how to react to that, so he sighs again. 

“C'mon,” he says, as he gathers his laptop and his paperwork. “Let's move this over to the couch.” 

-

Nick is sitting next to him, leaning into his side as he works his way through the book. He's almost at the halfway point, Young is kind of impressed with his perseverance. He's never gotten past the thirteenth page, himself. 

Young has his laptop balanced on the armrest of the couch, shuffling papers on his lap every now and then. He's actually getting quite a lot done. He was getting behind on his reports, and this seems like a perfect opportunity to get back on top of the bureaucratic drag that usually takes a backseat to the day-to-day ordeals on Destiny. 

They both startle when there is a knock on the door. 

Young gets up to open it, and is slightly surprised to find it's Greer. He has a tray in his hands, with tea, and water, and lunch. A lot of lunch. 

“Room service, sir,” Greer says with a grin. “Doctor's orders.” 

“Come in,” Young says, palming the door shut behind Greer. 

Nick watches them from his spot on the couch, eyes curious, as Greer places the tray on the coffee table. 

“How is he doing?” Greer asks, with a glance at Nick. 

Young supposes TJ told Greer the whole story. He'd already caught a glimpse of it in the gateroom yesterday, of course. 

Young shrugs. “Better. TJ thinks he'll be back to normal in a few days.” 

Greer nods.

“We're running dangerously low on entertainment here, though. So if you could scrounge up a couple of books, maybe an iPod or something, that would be great,” Young says. 

“Yeah, of course, sir. I'll be by in a few hours with dinner. Will you make it till then?”

“Sure, that's no problem. Thanks, Greer.” 

“It's no trouble at all, sir,” Greer smiles at him. “Feel better, Doc!” he says to Rush, and with a small wave he's out of Young's quarters. 

Young sits back down on the couch, and pulls the tray closer to them. 

“I recognize him,” Nick says suddenly. 

“Yeah, he was in the gateroom when we came through.” 

Nick shakes his head. “No, from before.”

Young smiles. “Well, that means your memory is coming back to you. That's good.” 

Nick grins at him, and it is somewhere between bewildering and heartbreaking to see that happy, impish expression on Rush's face. 

He clears his throat. “Let's have lunch, okay?” 

-

A few hours later, Nick finishes his book. 

“Well, that wasn't very good,” he says dryly, and Young can't help but laugh at how much he sounds like Rush in that moment. 

“No, I guess it wasn't,” he concedes. “But it's not like there's much choice here.” 

“The Ancient database is full of literature, fiction and non-fiction.” 

Young looks at him for a moment. “How are you feeling?” 

Nick gazes at him calmly, a slight smile on his lips. “I feel alright, Everett.”

“You're remembering more, aren't you?”

“Yeah. More about Destiny, more about people...more about you.” Nick gives him an insecure look. “More about me.” 

“And how do you feel about that?” Young asks carefully, suddenly realizing it will not be easy at _all_ to find the right balance in dealing with Nick and Rush. 

“A bit lonely,” Nick says as he looks away. 

Young isn't sure what to say to that. After a few long moments, he puts his hand, palm up, on his leg. Rush—Nick, grabs it almost immediately, threading his fingers through Young's and holding on tightly. 

“It'll be okay,” Young hears himself say. The grateful expression in Nick's eyes makes it worth it, but he can't help but wonder how Rush will react to all of this when he's himself again. 

-

“Everett.” 

He wakes up because someone is calling his name. His back hurts.

“Everett.” 

He opens his eyes, and Rush is standing in front of him. 

“Wha?” he asks, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Everett,” Rush, no—Nick says, before he grabs Young's hand and pulls it. 

Young isn't sure what's going on, but he lets himself be pulled off the couch until they're both standing, and then Rush starts pulling him towards the bed. His sleep-addled mind objects only when they're halfway across the room, and he stops. 

“Everett?” 

“What are you doing, Nick?” 

“I can't sleep.” 

Young sighs. 

“You're too far away. I can't see you,” Nick says, and he sounds so goddamn lost that Young feels his defenses crumble. 

“Nick...” 

“Please, Everett,” he says, as he pulls his hand again, and Young lets himself be led over to the bed. Ru— _Nick_ gently pushes him to lie down, and then scrambles over him until he's lying on his other side. He curls his arms around Young's bicep like it's a stuffed animal, and promptly goes to sleep. 

Young sighs again, and studies the peaceful face of the man beside him. Well. At least his back will thank him in the morning. 

-

The knock on the door wakes him, and before he knows what's happening, Greer is standing in his quarters with a tray full of breakfast. 

“Sorry, sir, I—” Greer's voice halts and his mouth falls open as he takes in the picture before him. “—am late for my shift,” he finishes lamely. 

Young wants to groan. He should've set an alarm. Well, he probably shouldn't have fallen asleep in the same bed as his chief scientist. He carefully tries to pry the fingers off his arm, but Nick is holding on tightly in his sleep. Young gives up before Nick wakes up. 

“Wow,” Greer says, still holding the tray. 

“Don't ask,” Young says, before realizing that's one of the dumbest things a military man can say. 

The thing is, it's completely innocent. Thankfully they're both wearing all their clothes, and the only point of contact between them is where Nick is hugging Young's upper arm to his body. “It's a long story.” 

Greer grins, finally putting the tray down on the desk. 

“I was referring to the fact that he's sleeping past 0800,” he says good-naturedly. 

Young gives him a grateful smile. Greer is a good guy. The best. 

“Thanks, Greer,” he says, and it's not just for the breakfast. 

Greer picks up the tray from last night and gives him a quick salute. “I'll see you at lunchtime, sir.” 

When he's gone, Young lets his head fall back against the pillow and closes his eyes. This whole situation better resolve itself soon.

He looks over at Nick when he hears a rustle of movement. For a second Nick smiles at him, sleepy and content, and then his expression turns more sober. The grip on Young's bicep loosens to the point where he could easily slide his arm out. Young waits. 

“Morning,” Nick says, slightly insecure. 

“Morning, Nick,” he answers, and the smile he gets in return makes him feel a little better.

Nick untangles one of his arms and rolls onto his back. “I think I'd like to try some calculations today.” 

“I'll ask TJ to bring you some of your notebooks when she comes for your checkup,” Young says. He's not sure it's a good idea to let Nick have a go at Rush's laptop yet. 

Nick looks over at him and nods. “Thanks, Everett,” he says with a small smile. His fingers are still warm on Young's upper arm. 

-

The morning goes by in a blur. He's been working at his desk for three hours straight, and for the first time since coming to the ship he's almost caught up with his paperwork. Nick sits on the couch, and spends the entire time scribbling in his notebooks. He barely looks over at Young, and when Greer comes in with lunch he seems surprised by the amount of time that has passed. 

They eat together on the couch. Terrible as most of the fauna on that planet had been, the stew Becker has managed to create from the turtle-like creature James had caught is unexpectedly tasty. 

“Maybe tomorrow we can eat in the mess hall,” he says to Nick. 

Nick glances at him before turning back to his food. “If you prefer. I don't mind one way or the other.” 

“You're not starting to feel just a little cooped up in here?” 

Nick shrugs. “It doesn't matter where I am when I'm thinking about mathematics.” 

“You sound like you're almost back to your old self.” 

“Not quite,” Nick says, with an almost bashful smile. “I was about to ask you to work on the couch again.” 

Young huffs out an amused breath. “Guess I spoke too soon, huh.” 

“Will you?” 

“Are you going to sit at the foot of my desk again if I don't?” he asks with a slight smile. 

“No. You were right, it wasn't comfortable,” Nick says. “I'd just feel better if you stayed close for a bit.” 

He can't really say no to that, because it's so honest and open, and damn, how much easier would his life be if Rush was even _half_ this upfront? 

“Yeah, okay, Nick.”

Nick's smile isn't as wide as it was yesterday. 

But it's still a smile, and this is still not Rush. 

In the end, Young can get almost just as much work done sitting on the couch. Nick lounges on the other side, writing in his notebook, his feet tucked underneath Young's legs. It's easy, and it's friendly, and this time they're both surprised by how much time has passed when Greer comes by with dinner. 

-

“Look, you realize this is tough for me too, right?” Young says frustratedly. 

Nick looks conflicted, the frown on his face half confused and half unwilling. He doesn't answer. 

“I'm trying to take care of you, Nick, but you're slowly turning back into your old self, and _you will not like this_.” 

Nick crosses his arms and rubs at the junction between his shoulder and his neck, and it's such a _Rush_ thing to do that Young doesn't know who he's even talking to anymore. 

“I simply don't understand why this is such a problem all of a sudden. It's a large bed, we are both fully dressed. Why is this so important now?” Ru—Nick asks plaintively. 

Young shakes his head. “Believe me, you will think it's a problem.” 

Nick eyes him quietly for a while. “You know, it was clever to make the distinction between 'Nick' and 'Rush'. But it's becoming less relevant by the hour.” 

Young narrows his eyes. “All the more reason not to spend the next eight hours sharing a bed, I would think.” 

“Quite the contrary. Perhaps you should maintain this level of physical contact even when I'm completely back to my old self. We both seem to enjoy it.” 

Young scoffs. “Who says I enjoy it? And _you_ only enjoy it because you were poisoned by an alien.”

“We both enjoy it,” he says determinedly. “You can't deny it gets lonely on this ship sometimes.” 

“I'm not gay, Rush.” 

“What does that have to do with anything?” he asks, a disdainful little frown on his face. “And back to Rush now, am I?” 

Young curses. “Stop trying to trick me.” 

“Look, if you sleep on the couch, I'll spend the whole night awake. The only thing that will do is slow my healing process and make me feel...unpleasant,” he says reasonably. “Just sleep on the bed. I promise I'll stay on my side.” 

Young looks at him for a few long seconds. He sounds self-assured and convincing, but he looks...anxious. He probably wouldn't be asking this if he didn't think he needed it. 

“Fine,” he gives in with a weary sigh. 

Nick's face lights up with a smile, and yeah, it's still Nick, this isn't even a little bit Rush. “Thank you, Everett.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says. “If you get mad at me later, do remember you worked really hard to convince me, okay?” 

Nick laughs. It's odd, he doesn't think he's ever heard Rush laugh before, but it's a nice sound. He sits on the bed to take off his boots, and gives Nick a stern look. 

“But no touching.” 

Nick huffs a breath. “You're really taking this 'I'm not gay' thing very seriously, I see.” 

“Ha fucking ha.”

“You know...I think I could be prodded for some experimenting with you, Colonel,” he says in a thoughtful voice. “The real me, I mean. I think I'd be up for it.” 

Young has no idea how to react to that, but gaping wordlessly is probably not the best response, so he closes his mouth and puts his boots off to the side. 

“Please don't tell me things Rush would kill me for knowing,” Young says pointedly. 

Nick laughs. “Sorry,” he says easily. “Just trying to provoke a reaction.” 

Young stills, a thought suddenly springing to mind. “Oh my God, you're going through puberty, aren't you?” 

“What?” 

“Yeah. You started out as practically a baby, and now you are growing up into your old self.” The look of aversion on Nick's face is magnificent. “Oh God, I've locked myself in a room with a teenage version of Rush.” 

“Shut up,” Nick says in an offended tone. “I hardly think that's how the venom works.” 

This time it's Young's turn to laugh. 

Nick looks slightly irritated as he says, “At best, it's a gross oversimplification.” 

Young only laughs harder.

-

The next morning, he wakes up to Nick trying to pry Young's fingers off his hand. When he sees Young is awake, he startles and moves back a little. 

“C—uh,” he says articulately. 

“Not sure what to call me?” Young asks as he loosens his grip on Rush's hand so they can both pull away. “You back to yourself then?” 

“Mostly,” Rush says, like it's an admission. 

That's...it's good. He realizes with a slight shock that he will miss Nick a little bit. The honesty, that open smile on Rush's face. The easy company. It had been nicer than expected. 

“Let's see what TJ has to say. Maybe we can do a bridge shift this morning.”

Rush nods with a small frown, and turns his back to Young. 

Yeah. He's definitely going to miss Nick. 

-

The bridge shift goes well. Rush only looks at him when Young addresses him directly, and even then it's only quick glances before turning back to his console. It's the opposite of the compulsive staring from the first day. The need for proximity seems to have evaporated as well, because if anything, Rush seems to move away whenever Young gets close. 

When it's time for lunch, Young manages to get him to the mess hall, but after a rather awkward fifteen minutes of eating in complete silence, Rush insists on going back to work. By himself. 

Young can't really think of a good reason why Rush shouldn't be allowed to do his job now that he seems back to his old self, so with a short nod and a hand gesture, he excuses Rush from the table. Rush is gone before he can even blink. 

Young decides to go back to the bridge, even if his presence isn't exactly needed because technically he's still on sick leave. He lets Camile know he's back to full health. 

Tomorrow things will be completely back to normal again. 

-

He wakes up in the middle of the night to the sound of his door whirring open and closed. He's surprised to see it's Rush, padding into his quarters like a skulking thief. 

“Rush?” he asks into the near darkness of the room. 

Rush's silhouette freezes for a second, before he bites out, “Don't.” He moves over to the empty side of the bed and sits down. 

“Wha—” Young starts to say, but he is cut off by Rush's incensed voice. 

“ _Don't_ talk about it!” he hisses. Then he angrily kicks off his shoes and lies down next to Young. 

They're quiet for minutes, the only sounds in the room their breathing. 

“Rush, what the hell are you doing?” Young asks finally. 

Rush clicks his tongue and looks over at him with an annoyed frown. Young is sure he's going to sneer something at him, make a harsh remark about Young's inability to follow even the simplest of instructions, but instead Rush looks away again, eyes directed at the ceiling. 

“It's different at night,” is all the explanation he gives. 

Young isn't sure how to react. He doesn't want Rush to just barge into his quarters, into his _bed_ , whenever he damn well pleases. But he also knows it's true, the nights _are_ different, because without the hustle and bustle, the crises, the preparations and the survival, it is cold and lonely on Destiny. 

Maybe Rush did okay while he was distracted by his math and the ship, but without it, he regressed to his needier self. 

In the end, Young decides to stay silent. It's not worth the trouble to get into an argument now. Rush is obviously himself enough to take full responsibility for this decision. 

He falls asleep again a few minutes later. 

-

Unexpectedly, he wakes up first. 

More unexpectedly, Rush is holding his hand in his sleep. 

Young looks down at their interlaced fingers for a long time. A strange sense of confused melancholy ripples through him at the sight. Rush's palm is warm against his own.

When he looks back up, Rush's eyes are on him. He looks caught, embarrassed, and within a second they both pull back their hands as if they've been burned. 

“Er,” Young says, feeling himself blush. “Morning.” 

“Yes,” Rush answers, and Young doesn't know how to feel about the answering flush of color on Rush's cheeks. “Morning.” 

They both stare up at the ceiling while an awkward silence settles around them. 

“I—” Rush suddenly says. Then he swallows thickly. “Thank you.”

That was not what Young expected at all. 

He doesn't think to say “You're welcome,” until long after Rush has slipped out of his room. 

-

Rush doesn't come to his quarters again after that. 

For the entire week, he avoids Young, leaving the room when Young enters, making excuses to be elsewhere when they're supposed to share shifts at the bridge. 

Young lets him, because he understands how embarrassing the whole ordeal must have been to Rush. Hell, part of him is grateful for the space, because _he_ feels embarrassed, and all he did was try to deal with the situation as best as he could.

And if he takes to doing his paperwork on the couch now, or his room seems a little colder at night, then surely that means nothing. Things will go back to normal. 

He's certain that at some point Rush will come around. 

-

Except that Rush doesn't come around. 

He hasn't even caught a glimpse of the man in five days when he finally decides to corner him in his quarters. 

Rush looks startled when Young steps inside his room, but he gazes at him wordlessly while Young reasons with him. 

“We can't keep avoiding each other forever, Rush. We're in control of this ship, we need to be able to be in the same damn room.” 

Rush jerks his eyes away with a hard frown. “I know,” he says, eventually. 

“Look, you got bitten by an alien creature and that changed your behavior for a few days. Big whoop. We dealt with it and everything is okay, so can you just move on already?” 

Suddenly Rush looks at him, and there's no hint of anger in his eyes. No irritation, or arrogance, just a sort of desperate and confused longing. Young's breath catches in his throat at the sight of it. 

Rush takes a step closer and bites his lip. He looks scared and hesitant as he lifts his hands to cup Young's face, and the openness of his expression reminds Young so much of Nick that he doesn't dare move. It's as if time stands still when Rush's fingers touch his jaw, the warmth spreading underneath until his skin feels like it's on fire.

Young stands frozen in place as Rush brushes his hands up over his cheeks and into his hair. His heart thumps loudly in his chest. 

“I don't—You're still...” Rush breathes out shakily and presses his forehead against Young's. “I still really like your face.” 

They stand like that for moments, quiet and careful and intimate, and none of the things they usually are. Young feels his lips curl into a small smile at the honesty in the words. He's grown quite fond of Rush's face, himself. 

Then Rush presses forward, slotting their lips together, dry and soft and a little scratchy, and it's strange, but it's good. It's even better when Rush opens up and licks his way inside Young's mouth, pushes his tongue against his, slick and slow and so fucking warm. Young wraps his arms around his back and pulls him close until the entire line of Rush's body is a stripe of heat against him. Yeah, he wants this. He can deal with this. It opens up a whole new line of possibilities he's never even let himself consider before, and that thought is almost as breathtaking as the kiss itself. 

When Rush finally breaks away he keeps Young's face in place with a firm grip on his hair. 

“Not gay, huh?” he mumbles against Young's lips. 

“Shut up,” Young laughs against his mouth, and pulls him in for another kiss.


End file.
